Fireworks and Chicken Soup
by Kaede Ravensdale
Summary: When Harry catches the flu hours before the pair planned to attend a nearby fireworks show Tom has to get a little bit creative.


Tom stood in the doorway of their bedroom, one hand holding a bag from the nearest pharmacy and the other buried in his dark brown hair. Harry was curled up beneath the duvet, shivering and covered in a thick layer of sweat. Bleary green eyes blinked out at him from a small hole in the covers in an apologetic sort of disappointment. After sneezing five times in quick succession a feeble scratchy voice said "so I guess this means we're _not_ going to the fireworks display tonight?"

"Harry," the brunet said calmly, freeing the hand in his hair from his chocolate curls and using it to remove a bottle of cough syrup from the bag, "you have the flu. In the middle of summer. How you managed that I'm not really certain but that doesn't really matter. No. We're not going to the fireworks display tonight."

His boyfriend, or more accurately the quaking ball under the covers which the illness had reduced him to, visibly deflated at that news. The disappointment radiated off of him in waves and, thankfully, the duvet played double duty of keeping Harry warm and shielding Tom from the raven's devastating puppy dog eyes. "But it's tradition!"

"You're contagious."

Harry attempted to whine, but his sore throat cut him off into another coughing fit. Tom sighed.

"I'll open the curtains so that you can see it through the window."

"We're not high enough; the trees are in the way." The coughing had left his voice even rougher than before. He sighed unhappily and nestled deeper into the mattress. "I guess I'll just wait until next year. We'll go then, won't we?"

"Yes, Harry." He promised, frowning at the heart broken tone while mentally berating himself for allowing it to affect him so much. "We'll go next year. And…maybe we won't have to miss it this year either."

The little raven sat up so quickly that he nearly toppled over, the covers coiling around him like a giant serpent; Tom managed to prop him upright before he could fall over onto the floor. "Really?"

"Yes, darling." He reached out to run one hand through Harry's soaked raven hair; the wet strands stuck up in all directions in an even more chaotic display than usual. "I can't promise anything but I'll see what I can do. You know how I hate to see you disappointed."

Harry leaned into Tom's hand with a small grumble. The brunet measured out a dose of the cough syrup and, ignoring the other's halfhearted protests, poured the contents into his mouth. His smaller partner made a face at the taste and stuck out his now violet stained tongue.

"Yuck!"

"It isn't supposed to taste good, love. But it does work; you'll start to feel better in another few minutes." He said. "I'll bring you up a bowl of soup and then see what I can do about the fireworks."

"Ok."

Tom thought better of kissing him at the last possible moment and head back down the stairs to the kitchen. After taking a bowl of soup up to Harry who hesitantly took it from him-Tom was a capable enough cook thank you very much, it was just because his throat was sore that he was less than enthusiastic to eat-he headed out into the garage and quickly found what he was looking for. Carting the ladder outside and propping it against the side of the house, pleased to see that it did indeed reach the second roof, and then went back inside to wait until ten minutes before the show was set to begin.

Harry leaned heavily against his boyfriend's chest as Tom led him out of the house and around to the ladder. The little raven looked at it in confusion.

"Why is there a ladder up to the roof, Tom?"

"So that we can get up there, obviously." He snickered. "You said that we weren't high enough to see the fireworks over the trees from the bedroom, but we will be from up there. Think that you can make it?"

He nodded, hesitantly grabbing hold of the ladder and testing its stability. Tom's hands rested on his hips to steady him. "I think so."

"I'll be right behind you so you don't need to worry about falling."

It was a fairly difficult climb to make in his state but Harry managed it with some help from Tom. Once safely perched on the peak of the roof, shivering despite the heat, he was pulled into his partner's lap and the brunet propped his chin atop his head.

"I'm sweaty and sick, Tom, don't do that. I don't want you to get sick too."

"I'll be fine, Harry. Getting covered in sweat is small sacrifice to keep you warm-I'll just shower later-and if I'm going to get sick I'm going to get sick. The flu won't kill me."

"I know it won't kill you but it will make me feel guilty; it isn't pleasant being sick."

"It's even less pleasant to be sick and have to take care of yourself."

"I…well…I guess."

Tom chuckled, tightening his grip slightly and holding him closer. "We agreed to take care of each other when we were still children, remember? I'm not about to let you suffer alone, especially not while knowing you wouldn't allow the same for me. Now hush, the show is starting."

The first firework went up with a sharp whistle into the new fallen darkness, exploding into a lattice of red and green and gold. Harry relaxed further against Tom as more colors filled the sky and his boyfriend's smile pressed against his skin.

"Happy Fourth of July."


End file.
